I just hope there’s an end to these texts.
Mom: Honey? I haven’t heard from you in hours. I’m starting to get worried.
Magnus: Your mother called the office looking for you. She seems worried.
“Crap. My mom called HeronComm thanks to my radio silence,” I say. My gut tightens.
“Too bad, so sad. Tell him you were having wild movie star sex with your biker boyfriend, who your parents don’t approve of,” Paige suggests with a wicked grin.
“You’re so ridiculous,” I tell her, stifling a laugh.
But these text messages totally aren’t.
Mom: Brina, where are you? Text me back. You could be dead in a ditch somewhere! How would I know? And now I heard you randomly took a vacation from your job? What’s going on?
Greaaaat. I feel sick, and the bile only climbs up my throat when I see more from King Asshole.
Magnus: Sabrina, please call your parents.
Magnus: Also, if I hear from them again, I’m sending Armstrong out looking.
“Oh my God!” I belt out, ignoring the TV.
“What?” Paige asks.
“Now he says he’s sending his driver to find me if Mom calls the office all panicked again.” I shake my head.
“Isn’t that called stalking?” Paige blinks.
“It’s because Mom called them, all worried. Her writer brain has me kidnapped by an evil mafia group or something, or maybe I’m in a coma waiting for a kiss from Prince Charming.”
Paige giggles. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh. It was just—”
“I love my mom, but she’s way funnier when you don’t have to live with her.” I start to text back a reply to my mom before Armstrong goes on a wild goose chase.
“Are you texting him?”
“Nope, telling Mom I’m alive before she gives Dad a heart attack.”
Paige nods. “Good call.”
Sabrina: I’m alive and well, Mom. Please don’t ever call my office again.
Her reply comes back near instantly.
Mom: Yay! And you should call your office, honey. People are worried about you.
It’s not my office anymore.
Also, I refuse to count Mag among “people.”
He’s horny, overworked, scrambling after poor Jordan, and doesn’t know what to do with himself.
None of those things are my problem, even if my heart goes out to the boy.
Mag needs to find another outlet. It can’t be me. But I’m sure my mother already has visions of wedding bells, white dresses, explosions of flowers, and cute little party favors.
Sabrina: You can tell him I’m alive so he doesn’t send his driver out looking for me. If you tell him more than that, I’ll never speak to you again.
Mom: Oh, Brina. That bad??? I’m sure you can work this out.
Sabrina: He’s no romance hero and he’s not my boyfriend.
Mom: Hint-hint...I’m a pretty good judge of character.
Yep, she’s insufferable, but I love her.
Sabrina: Fine, Mom. He can be a hero, but this is not my story.
Mom: Okay, baby. I’ll drop it.
Thank God. This isn’t a freaking book you can tie up with a happy ending, Mom. Stay out of it.
All words that flash through my head but I’ll never say out loud.
I won’t let Mag’s pain make me hurt Mom. Oh, and speak of the literal devil.
A new message lights up my screen.
Magnus: Thanks for letting your mom tell me you’re okay. Are you coming back to work next week?
Nope. Buzz off.
“This is hopeless. Now he wants to know if I’m going back to the office,” I say with a groan.
“No, loser!” Paige holds her hand up in an L on her forehead.
Magnus: Jordan left with my dad that night. I haven’t seen him since. His mom is going to hate me.
Awesome, here comes the pulling on my heartstrings.
It’s partly his own dumb fault. He let her son leave with a lunatic. Though he didn’t have much choice.
We could have worked it out.
Maybe I could’ve snatched the kid while he took the old man down. Or just maybe—
Maybe he didn’t want to talk to me.
He couldn’t even look at me that night.
I hope Baxter Heron doesn’t do too much damage, and maybe Jordan learning the truth about the last piece of his family will bring him peace. After everything his poor mother went through, I hope she finds a happy ending too.
But I won’t be there to find out.
It’s not my story and not my fight.
I don’t have enough heart left for it to shatter again. If I let Magnus Heron back in my life, my dad and I will be sharing a prescription soon.
There’s only one last thing left to do. It hurts, but it’s time.
Paige watches me mash at buttons on my phone. “Brina, what are you doing?”
“Blocking Heron’s number,” I say point-blank.
I try not to wince when I hit the button.
Paige stays up serving me pizza and ice cream, watching movies all night, ever the supportive friend.
At some point, I go to the room connected to hers by a bathroom. I’m emotionally drained and need to rest, but sleep hasn’t come easy. I crash in a bed softer than my own, but just can’t get comfortable.
I miss having over six feet of solid rock and sculpted muscle clinging to me.
His absence is like a vast, empty chasm with a sea rushing through it, the waves rolling down, shoving me deeper into a dark abyss.
Yes, it’s agonizing and overly dramatic.
Yes, the tears come fast and furious and there’s no damn stopping them.
Yes, I cry myself to sleep that night with knives scratching at my soul.
Then I dream of him again.
We’re lying in his huge cloud of a bed, wrapped in Egyptian cotton sheets.
His arms are around me, and his earthy smell mingled with fragrant cologne makes me swoon a hundred times. My head rests on his shoulder—right where it belongs—and I can’t hide my smile as he runs a hand through my hair, slowly winding it around his fingers.
“Big news, woman. I love you,” he says, his eyes hot blue stars.
“That was my headline!” I whisper, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his chin. “I love you more, Mag. Now and forever.”
Then I start pushing the blankets down, so much warmth leaving my body.
His arms slide around my waist, cinching me to his side, yanking me back. “Where do you think you’re going? It’s Saturday.”
“The office,” I say. “The airline sent feedback, they need—”
“Stay with me,” he growls, so fierce I’m taken aback.
The plea in his voice makes it impossible for me to do anything else. It also reminds me how deep our connection is.
I lean down and meet his mouth.
The kiss is slow and sensuous, but not the kind of heat that leads to more—just the kind when you know this person you’re kissing is part of you.
Except when I wake up, the kiss is a lie.
I never got the chance to tell him I loved him, too.
Because he never said it outside my tormenting dreams.
Not even once.
If he really wants to hunt me down, it’s all he’ll ever have to say.
26
Simply Perfect (Magnus)